


The Dangers of Doorknobs

by Astardanced77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astardanced77/pseuds/Astardanced77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think the prompt says it best - An object discharges its dormant spell causing one of the boys to work late, postponing a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangers of Doorknobs

**Author's Note:**

> Author/Artist LJ Name: astardanced77  
> Prompter: killerangels13  
> Prompt Number: 81  
> Title: The Dangers of Doorknobs  
> Pairing(s): Harry/Draco  
> Summary: I think the prompt says it best - An object discharges its dormant spell causing one of the boys to work late, postponing a date.  
> Rating: R  
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Warning(s): None  
> Epilogue compliant? Nope, not even a little bit.  
> Word Count: 8,900  
> Author's Notes: Dear Prompter, I had lots of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading. Thanks to my understanding husband for the beta and for not laughing too much at my current obsession for H/D. Thanks also to the mods for being so understanding about my tardiness.

Harry was roused from contemplation of his knees by the sharp rap of knuckles on his front door. He lifted his head, vaguely considering whether to ignore the summons, when the sound came again. He sighed, and, after a fleeting glance at the parchment in his hand, he hauled himself to his feet. There was no point delaying the inevitable; those knuckles sounded as if they meant business.

Pausing to secrete the parchment in a pocket, he heard the rap a third time. The knuckles were starting to sound impatient. Not for the first time, Harry was grateful for the myriad of charms on his flat that made entry impossible without his permission. The owner of the knuckles, he judged, would have taken the door off its hinges if they could.

In that, he was quite correct.

"Harry! How lovely to see you! I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I would pop around to say hello. Could I possibly come in?"

Ginny smiled brightly at him from the landing. Bemused, Harry folded his arms and blocked the doorway.  

"I had some time on my hands and I thought to myself, 'I know, I'll go and see Harry.' It's been ages since I've seen you. I bought a bottle of wine." She thrust the bottle at Harry who grasped it reflexively. "I thought maybe we could have a drink and chat like we used to. I–"

"Ginny." Harry finally found his voice.

"Yes, Harry?" she replied innocently.

"What are you really doing here?"

"I came to see you, Harry." Innocence fairly radiated from her every pore.  

"You can't hide here, Ginny. I'm busy."

The hopeful look abruptly disappeared, to be replaced by chagrin. "Damn, must be losing my touch. How did you know?"

Harry grinned.  "You were babbling. First sign of a guilty conscience. Own up. Who are you hiding from?"

"Hermione. Hang on, how did you know I was hiding?"

"I deduced. This flat has more security spells than the Ministry. It's also the most obvious hiding spot.  You know she will find you here."

"True, but I'm counting on the presence of an eyewitness to deter her from killing me horribly."

"What exactly did you do?"

Ginny grinned. "It's a long story. Let me in and I'll tell you about it while we wait."

"Sorry, Gin, I'd love to but I have things to do this afternoon."

"Oh, come on, Harry. It won't take long." She sidled closer to the gap between Harry and the doorframe. " I'll help you with your chores, if you like. I just need a few minutes for Hermione to calm down."

"I'd love to help you, Ginny, but I really—"

Ginny slipped past Harry into the flat.

"—have things to do," finished Harry, resignedly.

"Harry. What in Merlin's name happened here?"

It was Harry's turn to feign innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Look at it!" Ginny gestured extravagantly. "It's... it's...spotless."

Harry mentally cursed. "I tidied up?" he offered weakly.

"This isn't tidy. This is...is... I don't have a word for what this is."

Harry tried for indignation. "Are you saying that my place is a pigsty?"

"Yes," replied Ginny frankly. "I'd forgotten what colour the carpet was—it's usually covered in magazines. Look at the light fittings, for goodness sake! Good grief, have those curtains been ironed?"

Harry hadn't the foggiest idea. He searched for a response that might satisfy Ginny. "I felt like a change?"

It was too late. He could see the pieces coming together in Ginny's mind.

"Harry?" The question came abruptly. "Do you have a date?"

"Of course not," he blustered. "I just thought I might tidy up the place a bit. I do that. Sometimes."

"Harry, I'm not an idiot. We dated for two years. The only time you cleaned up was for special occasions. Very special occasions. Special occasions that involved—"

At this inopportune moment, they both heard the unmistakeable sound of a timer charm going off.  Gleeful understanding suffused Ginny's face. "You're cooking? Cooking and cleaning? Must be serious, then." She planted herself firmly into the nearest chair. "Tell me everything!"

"Really, Gin, there's nothing to tell."

"Harry, your curtains have been ironed. Clearly, there is something to tell."

Uncharacteristically nervous, Harry sat down on his couch, wine bottle still in hand. He had been putting this off moment for weeks and still had no idea what to say. Staring at the floor, he opened his mouth to explain. No words came out. He closed his mouth again. What words could he possibly use to explain this to Ginny of all people?

"So, you are seeing someone?"

Harry nodded. It seemed safer while the words were missing.

"Someone special?"

He nodded again. Someone very special.

"A male someone?"

Harry's head shot up at her amused tone. Ginny smiled at him. "Just checking you haven't changed your mind. You do bat for both teams, Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry, Muggle slang. I've been studying it for an article I'm going to be writing. I've had to watch Muggle television and everything. It's surprisingly addictive."

"Where did you find a Muggle television?"

"A friend, " said Ginny, evasively. "Anyway, back to you. Have you told Ron and Hermione about the someone?"

Harry shook his head. They were even less likely to understand that Ginny.

"Harry, are you dating Draco Malfoy?"

The words returned with a vengeance.

"How did you—? What makes you think—? Why would you—?"

Ginny laughed. "You're not the only one who can deduce, Harry.  Is that a no?"

"Yes, I mean no. No, it's not a no. Yes, I am dating Draco."

"I see," Ginny's face was thoughtful for a moment, before becoming brisk. "Well, it must be getting serious. Look at the state of this place. I can't believe you ironed the curtains. I didn't even know you knew any ironing spells."

Harry leapt to his feet. "How about I open this bottle of wine now? You can tell me why you are hiding from Hermione."

Ginny was gazing around her again, calculatingly. "The light fittings have been polished, too. And this carpet does seem very clean. Slightly too clean, in fact."

"Ginny, it's been eight years since we dated." Harry tried to sound exasperated. "I've learned loads of cleaning spells. I can clean a carpet."

"Really? Which spell did you use?"

An uncomfortable silence ensued before Ginny gave a crow of triumph.

"I knew it! You had house elves in to clean! Harry Potter, exploiting slave labour! What will Hermione say?"

"Hey!' he protested. "It wasn't slave labour. I paid them what they asked."

"And what would that be, exactly? House elves won't ask for money."

Harry's face flushed crimson, remembering the exchange. "An autographed poster," he muttered.

Ginny's peal of laughter was drowned by pounding on the front door. Above it they could hear Hermione's furious voice, "GINNY WEASLEY! I know you are in there. Open this door AT ONCE."

Ginny's laughter stopped abruptly as Harry turned to her.

"That didn't take long. I think Hermione has found you."

"I think she has, too." Ginny stood up, squaring her shoulders. "Open the door, then. It's time the face the music."

~~~~~

Harry was impressed. Hermione had been going for a full five minutes and hadn't yet repeated herself once.  

"–no idea how you could have been so irresponsible.  This is the sort of behaviour I would expect from Teddy, not a grown woman. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could have done? I was meeting with the Chair of the committee! What if he had seen it? I am appalled, simply appalled—"

"Harry's dating Draco Malfoy."

"—by your reckless disregard for the rights and protections of— I beg your pardon?"

"Ginny!" Harry protested.

She smiled, unrepentantly. "Sorry, Harry, I couldn't save us both."

"Harry's dating Draco Malfoy?" Hermione turned to face Harry. "You're dating Draco Malfoy?"

"Umm, yes."

"Draco Malfoy? The same Draco Malfoy with whom we went to school?"

Harry straightened, feeling a prickle of annoyance at her tone. "Yes."

"Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret?"

"Don't call him that," Harry demanded, his annoyance rising.

"Tall, blond hair, pointy face. The one I punched in third year. That Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," said Harry flatly, now angry.

"Bugger," said Hermione.

"I know you don't have the best history, Hermione, but you should give him a chance. He was just a kid during the war; we all were! And I would think that you, of all people, would understand the lengths that he was willing to go to for his family's safety. Furthermore—what are you doing?"

"Paying up," said Hermione, handing over the Galleon she'd been rummaging through her robes to find. "Ginny bet me last week you were dating Draco and I didn't believe her. Frankly, I'm impressed the two of you finally got your act together. You've been dancing around each other for ages."

"—", gaped Harry.

"Really, Harry, did you think I hadn't noticed the way you watched him walk out of that meeting last month?"

Harry's brain replayed the exit in question, and his cheeks flamed. He'd spent most of the interdepartmental planning meeting trying to keep his mind focused on the purpose of the meeting and not on the man sitting four feet to his left. As an expert on the repair of magical objects, Draco had been contracted to work at the Ministry in recent years. As he had begun appearing at work, with his clever contributions in meetings and insightful comments left in case notes, so had he begun to feature in Harry's dreams; dreams that left Harry feeling uncomfortably aware of the change in his feelings toward his one-time 'enemy'. He couldn't help it, he reasoned; he just found competence to be ridiculously attractive. He had no defence against actual brilliance.  

This latest contract was the first time Harry had worked closely on a case with Draco, and Harry profoundly hoped it would be the last. The three months they had worked together had been torture; confronted daily with the literal embodiment of his dreams, Harry had been hard pressed to give their case the attention it deserved. Hermione had caught him in the Ministry corridors during a weak moment and Harry had congratulated himself that she hadn't noticed the direction of his gaze. Prematurely as it turned out.

"I thought I was going to have to get a bucket to hold the drool. I hope you have considered the implications of dating a work colleague. It may cause some issues, especially on active cases. Have you informed your boss, yet? And you should check the guidelines for personal relationships in the Ministry and with external agents. So, how did it happen? Where you at the Ministry?  Because that might not be completely appropriate."  

Ginny thankfully intervened. "Hermione, he's not on trial! And if we are talking about appropriate work behaviour, don't think I don't know what happened when you picked Ron up at the shop last week."

Hermione flushed beet-red. "I don't know what you are referring to."

"Give it up, Hermione." Ginny smirked. "I know everything."  

Hermione pointedly looked away. "Sorry, Harry, I was just excited that something had finally happened. You don't owe me any explanations."

"But you want them anyway?" Harry guessed.

She gave a rueful grin. "Of course I do. You know how much I hate not knowing something."

"You should ask Ginny. Apparently she knows everything. Umm, Hermione? Does Ron know?"

Hermione and Ginny traded looks. "No, we didn't discuss it with him. But I'm sure he'll be fine, Harry. He just wants you to be happy. I'll help you tell him, if you want." She appeared to notice the state of the lounge room for the first time. "But maybe another time. It appears you have plans for the evening."

Ginny hurriedly stepped in as Hermione's eyes began to narrow. "Harry cooked too. Actually, we should probably leave so he can get ready. We don't want him looking scruffy for his big date."

Harry's heart fell as he remembered. "You don't need to leave. He's not coming." He pulled the scrap of parchment out of his pocket. "He cancelled. Said that something had coming up at work and he was terribly sorry, but he wouldn't be able to make it."

"Oh, Harry!"

Refusing to meet Hermione's eyes, Harry plastered a smile on his face. "You should stay for dinner. There's plenty to go around. I'll send an owl to Ron and open some wine. It'll be great to have a night with just the four of us, don't you think?"

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried from the room, pretending not to see the look Hermione and Ginny shared.

The three of them were most of the way through Ginny's bottle of wine before Ron knocked at the door. He slouched  past Harry as he opened the door and threw himself in his favourite chair.

"Nice of you to wait," he groused. In the face of Ron's obvious bad mood, Harry mentally readjusted his 'Telling-Ron-about-dating-Draco' timetable back a few hours and reached for another wine glass.

"Harry's dating Draco Malfoy," Ginny announced brightly.

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed. "Would you stop doing that!'

Ron's face was frozen. "Draco Malfoy," he said blankly. He turned to look at Harry. "Is it true?"

Harry squared his shoulders. "Yes," he answered.

Ron's tone was flat. "How long has this been going on?"

"Umm,  nearly three weeks," Harry calculated nervously.

There was an ominous silence as the tips of Ron's ears turned red. "Damn it, Harry," he finally burst out. "Could you not have waited a couple of weeks?"

"—" gaped Harry, for the second time.

"Bill bet me you'd be dating by Easter. He ran into Malfoy at a conference and said it was a sure thing. But I was positive it would take the two of you longer to finally get your act together. You're worse than Hermione and me."

His wife cleared her throat pointedly. "Sorry," said Ron.

"So you're not mad?" Harry didn't quite know what to think.

"Of course, I'm mad. I owe Bill five Galleons now." He stole Hermione's wine glass and took at drink. "You could be more considerate of others, Harry. What's for dinner? I'm starving!"

~~~~~

"So... is it serious?"

The remains of dinner were spread across the table, mute testament to Harry's ability in the kitchen. Predictably, Hermione was the first to rouse herself from the post prandial stomach contemplation.  

Harry didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I thought it was. I thought it was going well, actually."

"But?"

"He's cancelled our last three dates," Harry's shoulders slumped. "Too busy at work apparently. Too busy to do more than scribble a couple of lines on a piece of parchment. I guess he wasn't as serious about it as I thought he was." He hoisted a weak smile onto his face.

"Don't be such a hypocrite," accused Ginny. "You cancelled plenty of dates when we were dating. I didn't doubt your intentions. Just your sexuality."

Hermione sniggered.

"That was different. I was..."

"You were what, Harry? An big, important Auror with a big, important job?"

"That's not a very supportive attitude, Harry," chided Hermione. "Malfoy, sorry, Draco's, job is just as important as yours is."

"I know that," Harry exclaimed defensively. "He's great at his job.  We wouldn't keep calling him in on cases if he wasn't the best.  He's just finished a case with us, actually. Helped us catch a thief by matching a curse on a stolen vase to the caster. It was amazing, really." He smiled reminiscently. "We went out to celebrate after we finished the paperwork. The whole team came out but half of them got called back in to execute a warrant."

"What happened then?"

"I suggested we get a meal and we just talked. Talked half the night, actually. They had to kick us out of the pub. Then he walked me home and we—"

"Details, mate," interrupted Ron hurriedly. "We don't need them."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Ginny.

Harry recollected his surroundings. "Anyway, it all seemed to be going fine until this week. He said he's been working really hard but he swore he'd be free this evening so I," Harry glanced at Ron, "err, made plans."

"He's probably just gotten caught up in something at work, Harry. Nothing to worry about."

"Maybe he's boning his secretary."

They all turned to stare at Ginny, who grinned, unabashed. "Sorry, I've been researching Muggle slang for an article. It's a surprisingly common plot point in Muggle television shows. It means—"

"I think we all know what it means, thanks," Hermione interposed hurriedly. "And I don't think Malf– err Draco, is having inappropriate relations with his secretary."

"I know. He doesn't have a secretary."

"How do you know that?"

"I told you, I know things."

Ron eyed her suspiciously. "You know a little too much, in this case."

"It's not just about the dates being cancelled." Harry continued. "I don't know what he thinks about anything. He never tells me anything. I have no idea how he feels about me, whether this is just a fling to him or if it is something more. It seems we've talked about everything else but us. How can I tell what he wants if he won't communicate?

"Maybe he is communicating, Harry. Maybe you aren't listening." Ginny's voice was gentle. "You know I love you, but you have the worst poker face I've ever seen."

"What face?" interjected Ron.

"Poker. Muggle card game," replied Ginny impatiently. "Anyway, Harry, Draco wasn't brought up that way. Pureblood communication is more subtle. In the old days, some purebloods communicated entirely through the flowers they were wearing during a day." Ginny correctly interpreted the look of disbelief her companions sent her way. "Mum's been listening to the History Hour on the WWN. I heard all about it when I dropped in yesterday."

"But you and Ron are purebloods," Harry protested. "You weren't brought up like that."

"You must be kidding," Ron said. "Mum's got it down to an art form.  She and Dad could have whole conversations with just their eyebrows when we were kids. Safer, really. Talking aloud just gave Fred and George ideas."

"And Ma–Draco has had more reasons that most to learn not to give away his secrets. He life and those of his family have depended on his ability to hide his thoughts, literally. Even since you defeated Voldemort, he's had keep his head down, keep quiet and do his job." Hermione's tone was thoughtful.

"My point, Harry, is that Draco may well be trying to communicate with you the only way he feels is safe. The problem is that you aren't listening. He's not like us. Slytherins don't take the most obvious route towards anything, even the thing that makes them happy. He's probably just as confused and nervous as you, but you won't see it unless you look.

"Find your own method of 'talking'. Draco will probably always leave the really important things unsaid. You need to come up with other ways to show each other how you feel."

"How am I supposed to do that? I can't do the eyebrow thing."

"Well, snogging works for me," Ginny grinned evilly.

Ron was eying her suspiciously again. "Since when are you an expert on pureblood Slytherins?"

Ginny shrugged. "Since I started dating one, I guess."

"You're dating a SLYTHERIN?!"

"Blaise Zabini, in fact."

"ZABINI!!"

It was, Harry decided, time for another drink.  

~~~~~

Sometime later, the level in the bottle of wine had dropped considerably. Hermione, in the light of Ginny's admission, was now claiming that Ginny had insider knowledge which invalidated their bet. Ginny had, thus far, let the matter lie, but Harry doubted it would stay that way.

They had moved from the dining room to sprawl on the comfortable lounge chairs. Hermione and Ginny were debating legislative protects for garden gnomes while Harry was listening vaguely for the timer charm to signal the apple pie was cooked.

"I can't believe Blaise Zabini is dating my sister," groused Ron.

"I can't believe Blaise Zabini has a television," said Harry.  

"Yeah, that was unexpected. I wonder how much longer we'll be hearing about Muggle slang."

"Oh em gee! Gee tee eff oh!" Ginny's excited voice floated across from the other side of the room.

"What does that mean?" Ron was confused.

"No idea. Ginny says Muggles write in code on their telephones."

"I thought felitones were for talking."

"Telephones. Search me, mate, I haven't used a Muggle phone since I left the Dursleys. Who knows what has changed."

"Well, your dating Malfoy has one advantage," said Ron, apparently abandoning the intricacies of Muggle technology.

"What's that?"

"Hermione's forgotten she was mad at Ginny."

Harry was intrigued. "Why was she mad? I didn't get to hear the story."

Ron sniggered. "Hermione wants to expand some of the house elf protections to other 'less intelligent' magical creatures. She's never forgotten the sight of the house elf that Fred and George put at the top of the Christmas tree that year."

Harry had a sudden vision of the gold spray-painted gnome glowering from the top of the tree. The discussion on the other side of the lounge room was starting to make more sense.

"So Ginny's against protections for garden gnomes?"

Ron laughed. "I don't think Ginny really cares one way or another. It's the name of the campaign that is the problem. Hermione's called it 'Project: Equality for Non-aggressive Indigenous Species."

Harry did some mental calculation and started to laugh. "Hermione's not gotten any better at naming things, has she? SPEW seems positively tame by comparison."

"Ginny and George thought it was hilarious. So this afternoon, Ginny snuck into Hermione's office with some posters with the acronym PENIS plastered across the top. Hermione was just ushering the Chair of the Committee for the Regulation of Non-human Magical Creatures into her office when she saw them. Fortunately, George and Ginny had spelled them to show nature scenes to everyone else. Hermione had to pretend that they were a new method of stress relief for her staff."

"Genius!"

"Yeah, Hermione will see the funny side in a couple of days. She's just a bit stressed at the moment. We're , err, trying."

"Trying to do what?"

"To have a baby."

The tips of Ron's ears started to go red under Harry's astonished gaze before he pulled himself together.

"That's fantastic, mate. Really great news."

Ron's cheeks were beginning to burn now. "Well, it hasn't happened yet, but we figured it was time, you know? The new shop at Hogsmeade is coming along nicely now. George is talking about handing the running of the business to me so he can focus more on inventing stuff. Hermione's done some research," they shared a grin, "and reckons that 28 is the best age to start a family. And Mum's comments about grandchildren are getting a bit pointed."

"I think it's great. I'm really happy for you both."

"We're happy for you too, you know." Ron's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I mean it, Harry. You deserve to be happy and if Draco Malfoy is who makes you happy, then you have my blessing. Not that you need my blessing," he added hurriedly. "Just, you know, it's fine with me. If you were worried."

Harry's heart lifted, listening to his best friend stumble through a conversation about feelings. "Thanks, Ron. That means a lot."

"So," said Ron heartily, rubbing his hands together with the air of a man who had surmounted a mighty obstacle, "when's this dessert going to be ready? The smell of that apple pie is making me hungry!"

"A couple more minutes," said Harry, checking the timer charm. "I'd better whip the cream."  

A rap at the window made them both look up. Harry's stomach flipped over, then settled at the sight of an unfamiliar owl.

"Bit late for a letter, isn't it?" remarked Ron.

"Hmm," replied Harry absently, as he opened the window. "Hand me  that bowl of owl-treats, would you? On the bookcase behind you."

"Bad news?" Ron asked, bringing the bowl.

"Don't know," said Harry, frowning. "St Mungo's are asking me to come in."

"You're not on call, are you?" said Ron, familiar with the routine after previous interruptions.

"No, but they sometimes direct owls here if they can't contact the duty officer. It can't be urgent, or they would have said. Still, I should go in and see what's going on."

"Go," Ron urged. "I'll clear up a bit, then take the girls home."

"No, don't leave," said Harry. "The pie is almost ready. This won't take more than half an hour. Why don't you all stay the night? The spare rooms are already made up." Ron looked torn, so Harry pressed. "I'll cook breakfast in the morning."

"Cheers, mate," said Rob, his face clearing. "I didn't fancy trying to Apparate with Hermione in this state." He pointed to his wife, who was now gesticulating wildly, to the imminent danger of Harry's brightly polished lamps. "When are you finally going to get a Floo?"

"I'll be off then, " said Harry, ignoring Ron's most constant complaint about his apartment. "Or should I whip the cream first?"

"Bugger off," said Ron, trying Harry's coat at him. "I'm not that bad in the kitchen. Better than Hermione at least," he amended, correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face.

"Ron, if it wasn't for your mother, the two of you would have scurvy by now."

"What's scurvy?"

"Never mind. There had better not be cream on my ceiling when I get home."

With that parting shot, Harry let himself out the door. Harry carefully checked his surroundings, pulled on his coat, and Apparated.

~~~~~

The waiting room at St Mungo's was barely controlled chaos. The Welcome Witch sat stone-faced at her desk as an irate mother gestured at her child, how appeared to have small boulders stuck up her nose. Every chair was filled and the chaos had spilled into the hallway. Harry barely kept from tripping over a wizard who had sprouted tentacles from his knees.

Making a command decision, Harry slipped past the Welcome Witch, who was now trying to stop the boulder-nosed child from shoving a jelly bean in her ear. He quietly made his way down the familiar route to the Spell Damage ward.

"Evening, Nurse Pritchard," Harry said cheerily to the tired nurse at the duty desk. "I received an owl asking me to come in."

The nurse looked confused. "I'm sorry, Mr Potter. We don't have any Aurors in this evening."

Harry fished the parchment out of his pocket. "I had a message from Healer... Fleming. It's doesn't say why. I just assumed it was about an Auror, to be honest."

"Ahh, Mr Potter." A voice behind him made Harry turn to see a middle-aged witch in the green robes of a Healer. "Thank you for coming so promptly. I'm Agnes Fleming."

"Nice to meet you, Healer Fleming," said Harry, shaking the proffered hand.

"Come to my office and I'll explain. Thank you, Nurse Pritchard. This way, Mr Potter."

A strong hand on Harry's back guided him down a short hallway and into a tiny office. Every available wall space was crammed with bookshelves, in which rolls of parchment were staked haphazardly. More parchment spilled over the desk  and onto the floor.

"My apologies for the mess, Mr Potter," she said, sweeping the piles of parchment to one side. "A case took a bit of work to diagnose."

Harry thought of his own desk, with its random piles of parchment. Draco teased him that it was the sign of a disorganised mind. Harry privately thought that Draco's immaculate desk was bordering on obsessive, but had never said so.

"How can I help, Healer Fleming?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I must first ask you a personal question. I'm sorry to have to pry, but could you describe for me the nature of your relationship with Draco Malfoy?"

"I—. We—. Umm. We're friends," Harry stuttered, taken off-guard by the question.

"Just friends?"

Harry's face flushed. "Maybe more. We are, umm, dating. I think." He cleared his throat. "Why do you ask?"

"Mr Malfoy is my patient. I am trying to find someone who can serve as guardian for him and have been unable to contact his mother. His father is, as I'm sure you know, unavailable."

Harry felt his skin go clammy. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"Oh dear, Mr Potter. No, I didn't mean that. Mr Malfoy is fine. At least, he will be."

Harry attempted to draw in a breath.

"My apologies, Mr Potter. Guardian was perhaps not the right word." She peered at him, concerned. "Would you like a glass of water? You look awfully pale."

Harry shook his head. He placed his hands firmly on his lap to disguise the faint tremble and put on his most authoritative voice.

"Please continue, Healer Fleming. What happened to Draco?"

She looked concerned, but continued. "Were you aware that Mr Malfoy was repairing a new object? And that he has been training a new apprentice?"

"Yes. He's been working late all week." Harry chose not to share Draco's assessment of his new apprentice, which had started at 'the intelligence of the average garden slug' and gone downhill from there.

"It appears his apprentice has accidentally activated a dormant spell on the object. In his attempt to shield himself, he appears to have inadvertently projected it onto Mr Malfoy.

Harry's opinion of Draco's apprentice dived further.

"What was the spell?" Harry asked.

"It's a very old spell, actually. I doubt you would have heard of it. It took me quite a bit of research to find it." She gestured at the still messy desk. "It's quite insidious. We weren't sure Mr Malfoy was affected to begin with, frankly. It was only his apprentice's assertions that something was wrong that prompted us to investigate. He insisted that it was not Mr Malfoy's usual practice to sling an arm over his shoulder and refer to him as 'mate'."

Harry's mind boggled at the mental image. "It's not," he agreed. "What does this spell do?"

"Essentially, it removes inhibitions. It works somewhat similarly to an Imperius curse, except instead of being forced to act under another's wishes, the victim is subject to his own desires."

"So, he'll do whatever he wants?"

"Basically, yes."

"Well, that doesn't seem too bad." Harry relaxed for the first time since Draco's name had been spoken. "It sounds like being drunk."

"Perhaps it does not seem so bad for you, Mr Potter.  However, Mr Malfoy's apprentice was at great pains to tell us that for Mr Malfoy, this would be the ultimate indignity. And, to be frank, given his history, I can understand why."

Harry had a vivid mental flashback to a high tower and a 17-year old Draco, shaking as he pointed a wand at Dumbledore. Then a slightly older Draco, bravely denying Harry's identity with terror in his eyes. To a dishevelled, soot-blackened Draco, held tight in his mother's arms, blank-faced and exhausted, following Voldemort's defeat. To a stony-faced Draco, sitting stoicly awaiting the verdict of the Wizengamot. No, Draco would not enjoy the experience of losing control. Harry felt ashamed that the young apprentice had seen what Harry had not.

"You are right. I'm sorry. What would you like me to do?"

Healer Fleming looked momentarily embarrassed. "Usually I would not ask this. Mr Malfoy's condition should be temporary. I estimate it will only last another eight or so hours. Usually we would simply monitor the patient and reassess him in the morning."

"But you can't this time?"

"We are experiencing very high volumes of patients tonight, and frankly, Mr Potter, we need the bed for more critical patients. Mr Malfoy's condition is not life-threatening, and though I recognise the potential impact it may have on his psychological functioning, I cannot justify keeping him in a bed that another patient could use. However, I cannot send him home alone, in his condition. He needs to be watched until the spell wears off, for his own safety. As I mentioned, I have been unable to contact his mother.

"She's visiting relatives on the Continent," said Harry. "I'm not sure when she will be back." Truthfully, he's been relieved when Draco had mentioned his mother's absence. After all this time, Narcissa Malfoy still scared him.

"That explains it. In any case, when Mr Malfoy's apprentice mentioned he thought you two were close, I thought you might be in a position to help."

"What would I have to do?"

"Take him home and put him to bed."

Harry's brain travelled briefly down a completely inappropriate tunnel before he hauled it back on track.   

"You can use the Floo in the Healers' tea room, if you would like."

"I don't have a Floo. We would have to Apparate."

Healer Fleming looked taken aback. "I'm afraid I would not recommend Apparition, even Side-Along Apparition to anyone in Mr Malfoy's condition. He would be unable to generate sufficient Determination, which could lead to quite dangerous consequences. He may also distract you in the course of the Apparition. If you cannot Floo, perhaps it would be best for Mr Malfoy to stay here."

Harry, however, had been thinking ahead. "Monitoring his condition. How many nurses would that involve?"

"Whoever is available at the time. As I said, we are very busy tonight, so he may not have the same nurse for each observation. Also, as you know, we are a teaching hospital, so he may be observed by trainee-Healers."

Harry thought again of the teenager he had known, so desperate to hide his fear from all observers, and of the adult Draco, so controlled and contained. He would be humiliated by the knowledge that strangers had seen him in so vulnerable.

"No," he said, decidedly. "I'll take him home with me. There is a Floo station at the local Tube station we can use. It's not far from my place."

Healer Fleming did not look convinced. "I'm not sure that is the best idea, Mr Potter."

"I am. You were right, before. This condition, this lack of control, would be one of Draco's greatest fears. I won't leave him in a hospital, alone and to be judged by strangers. I'll take him home."

"In that case, Mr Potter, may I suggest you use the Patient Bonding."

"What would that entail?"

"I would bond you to Mr Malfoy, temporarily, for the journey. It is a spell we commonly use for ambulatory patients, most particularly young children, who might be in danger of running away. It would force Mr Malfoy to stay within a certain distance of you. I would also suggest that it might be best for you to leave your wand here, for safe keeping. It would guard against the possibility that Mr Malfoy may attempt to use it. I can store you wand with his until morning, if you would like."

Harry's instinctive protest at the loss of his wand died. He had seen far too much careless spell casting in his years as an Auror to want to risk it with Draco.

"How would I remove the Patient Bond?"

"It has a physical trigger, somewhat like a Portkey. You would simply need to activate the trigger when you are ready to dissolve the bond"

"Very well," said Harry, rising from his seat and handing her his wand. "Thank you for your help, Healer Fleming. I would like to see Draco now, please."

"Of course. Come with me." Healer Fleming took the wand and secured it in a safe under the desk. Then, gesturing for Harry to follow, she left the office.

She lead Harry through a series of white corridors to a door with a viewing window. Peering through, Harry could see Draco pacing the length of the room, apparently muttering to himself.

"Before you go in, Mr Potter, I must ask again if you are sure."

"Yes, of course I am sure," Harry replied impatiently, still watching Draco pace.

"If you do not think you will be able to control Mr Malfoy, then I will insist that he stay here," she continued on, regardless. "I am placing a great deal of trust in you, to release him to your care."

"I know, Healer Fleming. I will take care of him."

"Harry." The use of his first name caused Harry to look around. "Unlike an intoxicated person, Draco will remember everything that he does. I am asking you to make sure he doesn't do anything he might regret."

"I thought you said he would do whatever crossed his mind."

"Oh, he will want to do it, I have no doubt. That does not mean he will not regret it later. Our inhibitions act as a... a stop on our emotions. They ensure that we don't do too much, too quickly. They ensure that we think ahead to the future consequences of our actions. Draco cannot do that at this moment. You will have to do that for him, regardless of how much you might not want to. Do you understand?"

"Yes," replied Harry, not entirely truthfully. He just wanted to get Draco home.

"Very well. Let us go in then."

As she opened the door, Draco ceased his pacing and swung to face the door. His face lit up at the sight of Harry behind the Healer.

"Harry! You came to visit me!"

"I'm here to take you home with me, Draco," said Harry, feeling a glow inside at the naked joy on Draco's face. He found himself wishing that he could always see it.

"Home?"

"My place," Harry clarified. A sly glint appeared in Draco's eye and a unfamiliar expression crossed his face before the joy reappeared.

"That sounds lovely. Just lovely. Let's go!"

"Just a minute, Mr Malfoy. We have a few procedures to finish first. If you could come and stand next to Mr Potter, please."

As Draco joined him, Harry felt a hand slide into his own. Surprised and pleased by Draco's unusual gesture, he firmly grasp the hand. Draco's thumb gently stroked the back of his hand and Harry's body temperature climbed a notch.

"Raise your hands, please." Healer Fleming's expression didn't flicker when Draco raised their joined hands. She held her wand over their hands for a moment before moving it away. Harry felt the tingle of her spell on his right hand. "Thank you, gentlemen. Mr Potter, you will need this."

She handed him a small ball, with a raised section. "This is the Bond Breaker. Press the button when you are ready and the bond will dissolve. If Mr Malfoy's symptoms are still present in the morning, please bring him back for another assessment. Good luck."

"Thank you, Healer Fleming," replied Harry.

"You are welcome. Nurse Pritchard will show you to the tearoom, where you can use the Floo."

On cue, Nurse Pritchard appeared in the doorway. "If you would follow me, please, gentlemen."

They followed her down the hallway toward the elevators. Harry could still feel Draco's thumb, gently stroking the back of his hand. Once in the elevator, the nurse waved her wand to reveal another button, which she pressed.

"We conceal this the entrance to this floor from the patients most of the time," she explained. "It's the only way to get a bit of peace and quiet during a break, not that we're getting much of that today. We usually use the Floo for emergencies, so the Healer's can get in quickly if they need to. Ahh, here we are."

The elevator doors opened to reveal a large, cheerful room. A fire burned merrily in the huge stone fireplace. Comfortable chairs and couches dotted the floor. One wall had several beds, with thick curtains tied neatly beside them. Another wall was lined with beverage dispensers. In pride of place was an enormous, shining coffee maker.

"We work long hours," said the nurse, noticing the direction of Harry's gaze. She gestured to the fireplace. "Floo powder is in the bowl on the mantle. You will need to use it together. This Floo takes ten people, so there is plenty of room."

"Thanks, Helen, I'll take it from here," said Harry, smiling at her.

"No problem, Harry, " she said, abandoning her formal manner. "Good luck!"

"How did you know her name?" said Draco, curiously, as the elevator doors closed behind her.

"I've met her before. I know most of the nurses by name; I'm in here often enough. Come on, let's go."

Harry dragged Draco towards the Floo. Grabbing a handful of powder in his unattached hand, he stepped into the fireplace. "Ready?" he asked the man beside him. Draco nodded. Harry threw the powder down and announced firmly "Euston Tube Station." As they disappeared, Harry thought he felt a hand run up the side of his leg.

They stumbled blindly out of the Floo into a clump of bushes.

"What in Merlin's name?" spluttered Draco.

"They must have Disillusioned the Floo and Muggles have added a garden on what they thought was a blank wall," surmised Harry, spitting out a mouthful of leaves. "Are you alright?"

"I have twigs in my hair!" Draco spluttered indignantly. "Do I look okay?"

Harry smothered a choke of laughter. "You look fine."

Draco wasn't listening. "My new robes! They have mud all over them. These robes have never even seen mud." He threw his hands in the air extravagantly. "My shoes are being scratched, as we speak." He shrieked and spun around. "Is there a creature in my hair?"

"Just me," Harry soothed, surreptitiously disposing of the twig he had pluck from Draco's now much messier hair. "I think you look fine."

"How can I possibly look fine?" Draco wailed petulantly. "I am practically wearing a bush! Where's my wand? I can't go out in public looking like this."

"Your wand is still at the hospital, as is mine, before ask. My place is just around the corner. You can clean up there. "

"Oh, yes, your place," said Draco, the sly glint back in his eye. "Lead on, then."

Harry was taken aback by the abrupt change in Draco's demeanour but did as he was told. As he turned, he thought felt a hand ghost over his backside. He shook his head. Draco would never...

It wasn't until Harry stood in front of his door five minutes later, that he remembered the security spells on his apartment. Only his wand could open the door from the outside. Cursing his lack of forethought, he pounded on the door. His hand was immediately snatched by Draco, who covered his knuckles with gentle kisses. "Careful, Harry! You might hurt yourself."

Harry's denial died in his throat as Draco carefully extended Harry's index finger to cover it with more warm, wet kisses. Harry's mouth went dry as all the moisture in his body abruptly fled south.

"You like that, do you," purred Draco. "Let's see how you like this." He sucked Harry's finger into his mouth.

Harry's brain fled south to join the moisture. He watched, transfixed, as Draco moved his mouth tenderly over his finger.

As this inauspicious moment, the front door flew open. Harry looked up to see Hermione, Ron and Ginny staring with identical expressions of astonishment at the tableau in front of them. Freed by desperation, Harry's brain hurriedly reasserted its command over his body. Hoping that Draco wouldn't look up from his adoration of Harry's finger, Harry jerked his head at his friends.

Ron was the first one to emerge from his stupefaction. Grabbing the girls, he dragged them silently out of view of the front door. Harry cleared his throat and attempted to take charge of the situation. "Draco, let's go inside."

"Mmm, let's," moaned Draco. "You're fingers are too small, Harry. I want to feel your big, thick—"

"Okay," interrupted Harry,acutely conscious of the three sets of ears undoubtedly listening avidly in his apartment. "This way then."

He slowly withdrew his finger and led the way to the door but let out a distinctly unmanly yelp as Draco's hands planted firmly on his buttocks. "Umm, Draco. What are you doing?"

"Keeping my hands warm, " replied Draco with seeming innocence. "It's a bit chilly tonight." The hands made their way slowly around to the front of Harry's jeans, so that Draco was pressed tightly up against his back. "I can warm them in your pockets if you would rather." His fingers wormed their way forward. "I like these trousers. Such good access to..."

Harry's brain threatened again to abandon ship as Draco's hands slipped further into Harry's pockets. Calling on reserves of willpower he had forgotten he had, Harry briskly stepped forward.

"How about a nice cup of tea? That will warm your hands up."

An uncharacteristic sniff caused Harry to turn. Draco's eyes had filled with tears. Under Harry's horrified gaze, a single tear slipped down his pale cheek.

"You don't want me." Draco's tone was helpless. "I don't know why I thought you would. You are Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. Why would you want to be with a Malfoy. I thought you had forgiven me, forgiven my family, but I see that isn't the case. I'll go now, Harry. You needn't see me again. I understand."

"No, Draco. No, I didn't mean that!" Harry felt panic rising as Draco turned to walk away. "Of course, I want you. I do. I think you are great. Really great. I—"

Draco collapsed.

Harry stood in shock. Before he could move, Hermione appeared in the doorway. "Non-verbal sleeping spell," she said. "I thought it was best. I don't know what is wrong, Harry, but this is not the Draco we know."

"I know," said Harry, moving to stroke the unconscious Draco's head. "He was hit by a spell at work today. The Healer said he'd be fine in the morning."

"Let's get him to bed, then," said Hermione. "He should sleep for at least eight hours after that spell and he can't stay on your front landing all night. I'll go and get a bed ready."

"I'll put him in my bed," said Harry. Hermione briefly nodded and vanished.

Ron appeared as she left. He laughed as Harry struggled to lift Draco's dead weight. "Are you a wizard or not, mate? Use your wand!"

"It's at the hospital," Harry gasped. "Give me a hand, would you?"

"Sorry," said Ron. "Here you go."

Harry and Ron carried the much-lighter Draco into Harry's bedroom and placed him tenderly on Harry's bed. Ron hovered awkwardly in the door way as Harry fussed over Draco, removing his shoes and placing a blanket over him.

"We'll just go to bed, then," said Ron. Harry nodded, not looking up from Draco's motionless face. "Good night then."

"Good night," said Harry absently.

Harry could feel the night's exertions starting to take effect. Smothering a yawn, he rummaged around in his drawers to find his sole pair of pyjamas. He ducked into the bathroom to clean his teeth and wash his face. Returning to the bedroom, his feet brushed against a small round object on the floor. It was the Bond Breaker he had been given by Healer Fleming. As he turned it over in his fingers, the feeling of panic he felt as Draco had turned to leave on the landing rose again. Fighting the ignoble urge to throw it out the window and keep Draco bonded to him forever, he stared at the ball. Finally, he sighed and pressed the button. The slight sting on his right hand told him the bond had been lifted.

Harry carefully placed the Ball in his chest of drawers. He briefly considered the chair before fatigue drove him to the other side of his bed. Tucking himself chastely under the covers, he closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Harry woke the next morning, he found himself alone in his bed. The neatly folded blanket on the end of the bed was the only evidence of Draco's stay. Telling himself firmly that he had no reason to be upset, he dressed and headed for the kitchen to fulfil his breakfast promise.

He was brought up short by the sight of Draco, dressed in last night's clothes, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea with Ginny. Draco looked up at Harry's entrance and offered a tentative smile. Harry's own smile felt as if it would take over his entire face. Clearing her throat, Ginny stood up.

"I'll leave you two to chat," she said, smiling. "I'm going back to bed. It's way too early to be up!"

Harry barely noticed as she disappeared out the door. He watched Draco as the tentative smile faded and the familiar smooth mask Harry hated came out. Healer Fleming had been spot on in her assessment, it appeared. Harry sat at the other end of the table, feeling strangely bereft.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, staring at his hands.

"Fine," replied Draco, smoothly. "Back to normal."

"That's, um, good. Great," said Harry, feeling stupid. He made an attempt to sound normal. "So, what happened?"

"I was helping Francis with an old doorknocker. The new owner of an old house brought it in, reporting that people were acting strangely when they entered the house after knocking. Francis accidentally triggered the spell while he was examining it."

"Oh," said Harry, still feeling stupid.

"I was quite lucky, actually," mused Draco. "There was a second spell layered on the doorknob for visitors the old owner didn't like. I could have been turned into a doormat."

Harry's head shot up at that. "A doormat?" he asked incredulously.

"A doormat," Draco confirmed, his eyes twinkling. "Apparently, the old owner of the house thought that was a fitting position for people he didn't like. I'm not sure what kind of a doormat I'd make."

Harry's brain treated him to a mental image of a Draco doormat, soft and blond with startling grey lettering. "I'm sure you'd be a very attractive doormat."

"The most attractive doormat of all," said Draco, laughing. Harry laughed with him, finally feeling that things were back to normal.       

"You didn't leave" he said softly, hopefully, as their laughter died.   

"I tried to leave," admitted Draco. "I couldn't Apparate."

"No, Apparition doesn't work in my apartment," said Harry, hope deflating. He stood up. "You can Apparate from the landing if you like."

"I wanted to leave," continued Draco, as if Harry hadn't spoken. "I couldn't face you, after my behaviour last night. I was...humiliated. My behaviour was—"

"Totally understandable," interrupted Harry. "I've seen much worse, believe me. I've behaved my worse, myself, upon occasion."

"So Ginevra said. But Harry, I molested you!"

"Well, I've not done that in public, but ask Ron, I've done plenty of other stupid things. Draco, you were under a curse. I understand. Besides," he added, blushing. "I liked some of it."

Draco gaped at him. Harry gathered his courage and plunged in.

"I liked it because I got to see what you were thinking. Draco, I want to know you, really know you, but I can't tell what you are thinking. I wasn't brought up like you. I can't have conversations via floral arrangements."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A raised eyebrow may speak volumes to you, but it doesn't even send me a postcard," Harry blundered on. "I'm no good at non-verbal communication, Draco. I'm hard pressed to get the message across verbally! I'll try to learn, I will, but you need to give me some clues. Because, Draco, I really like you and I don't want this thing we have to dwindle into nothing because we don't understand each other. So, mmphh—"

Draco's lips were soft against Harry's. Harry's brain took the opportunity to bunk off for a quick nap while the rest of Harry melted into Draco's kiss. Minutes, or maybe hours, later, Harry emerged for breath.

"Mmphh," he said intelligently.

Draco's mouth twitched. "Does that help clarify the situation?"

Harry shook his head.

"Perhaps some further non-verbal communication then?" suggested Draco.

Harry nodded vigorously and stepped closer to Draco.

This time Harry was dragged from the kiss-induced fog by Ron's indignant voice. "Mate, not first thing in the morning. I haven't even had a cuppa yet!"

"Leave him alone, Ron. They're communicating!" Ginny scolded from further down the hallway.

Draco started. "Merlin, how many more people do you have in here? I can't do anything this morning without being sprung by a Weasley!"

Harry grinned. "Just one more, and she's only a Weasley by marriage."

"A full house then." Draco disentangled himself. "I should be off, anyway. I need to get home and shower. I should probably check in with the office as well."

"No! Please stay," Harry begged shamelessly, grabbing Draco's hand. "Have breakfast with us. You can borrow some clothes if you like. We'll go into St Mungo's to get our wands, then we can go shopping with Ron and Hermione. You'll love the bookshop she found. And then.."

"And then?" prompted  Draco.

"Then, we can come back here and practice our non-verbal communication a bit more," said Harry, grinning. "I think my vocabulary could use some work!"

 

THE END

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